


Don't Leave

by the_haven_of_fiction



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Rescue, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3236378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_haven_of_fiction/pseuds/the_haven_of_fiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman finds a stranger in alley and "rescues" him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Mention of physical attack and blood.

She heard the rapid pounding of feet on the sidewalk and immediately reached for the pepper spray in her purse. Within a few seconds she realized that the sounds were fading rather than getting stronger. They must be running away. It wasn’t a big town and she normally felt safe, but the film festival always brought out the petty thieves who usually were only after cell phones and wallets. She had made a habit of carrying the spray that week when she had to close the restaurant on Friday and Saturday night around midnight, just as a precaution.   
Turning to enter the alley way that led to the parking garage, she saw a dark lump by one of the planters and halted abruptly. She squinted. It must be the victim. They had actually physically attacked him. Without giving it much thought, she raced over and fell to her knees.   
It was a man.  
A very tall man.  
A very handsome tall man with short dark blond curls that made her want to run her palms over his hair.  
He looked somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him; she hadn’t seen him in that restaurant that night, so he must have been at one of the others on the block.  
That wasn’t important.  
What was important was the blood that was pouring from his right temple. She quickly ascertained that he was breathing and didn’t appear to have other visible injuries. Those First Aid and Safety classes in college were finally proving useful. He was on his left side, partly curled up and she didn’t try to move him.  
She shrugged off the white cotton sweater, rolling it a few and times placing it under his head. The white and pink polka dotted scarf was liberated from her neck and she pressed it to the wound.   
“Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”  
A soft moan was issued out of his thin lips and she breathed a sigh of relief.  
“Sir, you’ve been attacked. Don’t try to move. You have an injury to your head. I’m going to call 9-1-1.”  
The blood was soaking up the fabric of her scarf. Head wound, she thought. Head wounds bleed a lot and many times aren’t terribly dangerous. Why did she have to wear the white one tonight?   
Focus!  
She reaching into the outside zippered pocket of her purse and fished around for her cell.   
Nothing.  
Where was it?  
The host stand.  
She had left it on the host stand when she was straightening the menus as she left.  
“Sir, I’ve left my phone in the restaurant, I have to go grab it. I’ll be right back. Please don’t try to get up.”  
The attempt to stand was thwarted when his long fingers reached up to rest on her hand that was pressing the wrap to his wound.  
“Don’t…leave…”  
He could barely speak, but his voice was filled with fear. What a lovely accent! This was like a scene straight out of the BBC!  
Focus!  
“It’s alright, I’ll come back. They’re gone, they won’t hurt you.”  
She had to tug on her hand again to release it from his grip.  
“Hurry,” he whispered, without opening his eyes.  
Taking his hand and gently transferring it to the scarf in order to keep the pressure on his head, she sprang up and raced down the pavement. Within a two minutes she was back on her knees next to him, the phone to her ear while she gave the information to the dispatcher. When she finished the call and ran a hand over his curls, Geez, his hair is soft!!, he spoke again.  
“Too long.”  
She snorted and he reached for her hand, his eyes still closed.  
“You’re a pushy bloke, aren’t you.”  
It was well past midnight and the moon was a sliver, but the weak light from the street lamps lit up his face and she could see him smiling. Alarm raced through her when she was that he was shivering. Shock. He must be in shock.   
“If you hadn’t been so pushy and insisted that I hurry, I would have thought to grab a tablecloth or something for you. You’re trembling.”  
He smiled again.  
And opened his eyes.  
They were the brightest blue she had ever seen.  
Blue?  
No, they had a slight green tint to them, like ocean waves.  
Focus!  
“Then I guess you’ll have to keep me warm. Consider it a parting gift to a dying man.”  
She couldn’t help but giggle.  
“Ok, Olivier. Dial it back there. I don’t cuddle with strangers, even if they are bleeding and beautiful.”  
Oh, smooth. Very smooth, girl.  
Focus!  
Another smile, this time revealing a dimple and lighting up his eyes before they fluttered closed as she tentatively lifted the blood-soaked material. It seemed to be lessening a bit.  
“Is there someone I can call for you? Someone who could meet us at the hospital?”  
“Why? Is my hero going to leave me as soon as I am passed over to the rescue squad? Is the bat signal calling you to another emergency?”  
That accent. She could listen to it all day. And all night.  
“You are a shameless flatterer, along with being pushy.”  
Those gorgeous eyes were revealed again and he tried to adjust his position on the pavement and winced.   
“Sorry, darling,” he gasped. “I’m a bit out of sorts. Bashed on the head, you know. Frightful business.”  
Oh, this man was too much.   
“Are you trying to sound stereotypically British or is this your usual manner of speaking?”  
A second wince and a groan this time as he tried to move again.  
“Stop that!” she insisted, pressing a hand to his upper arm. “You’re a very bad patient!”  
He went limp, sighing and closing his eyes.  
“You’re a very good nurse,” he purred.  
Focus!  
She went for the distraction option.  
“I think you might have jostled some ribs when you fell. The EMT’s will be able to help you.”  
The droning of sirens came from down the street and she stood up.   
She stepped back while they attended to him, looking down to see the blood on her hands and her shirt. She was imagining explaining this to her roommate when one of the EMT’s walked over, introduced herself as Megan.  
“Do you know who that is?” she enquired, pointing to the man.  
“Uhm, no, I don’t know his name. I didn’t ask. I guess I was too worried about trying to help him,” she replied, feeling somewhat embarrassed.  
Megan just grinned at her and proceeded to ask some questions.  
“Would you mind hanging around for a few minutes until we leave?” she asked.   
“Of course, yes.”  
He was on the gurney and they were getting ready to load him into the ambulance when he became agitated and Megan motioned to her.  
She walked over and stood at his side.  
“Well, my hero, they have assured me that I am not going to die from these wounds. How can I ever thank you?”  
A blush crept across her cheeks and she smiled at him as he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. His breath was warm on her skin and –  
FOCUS!  
“Can you introduce me to Prince Harry? He’s a bit young for me, but since William’s taken…”  
A rumbling chuckle made him wince and he brought an arm up, as if to hold his ribs. Her eyes widened and she tried to pull her hand away.  
He didn’t allow it.  
“Oh, I’m sorry!”  
“Don’t be,” he said with smile, even though it was obvious that he was in pain. “I’m not. Laughter is the sweetest medicine.”  
“Well, it’s been fun, Olivier, but a girl needs her beauty sleep.”  
His grip on her hand tightened and he turned to look at Megan with pleading eyes. Megan seemed to know what he was silently asking and she nodded at him, moving some of the paraphernalia from the seat next to her and making room for another passenger.  
His gaze returned to his hero.  
“Don’t leave.”


End file.
